


The Doctor (Voyager) and Wesley Crusher - related short stories

by RobertBruceScott



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors, Star Trek RPF, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertBruceScott/pseuds/RobertBruceScott
Summary: For fans of The Doctor (Voyager) and Wesley Crusher...Three humorous short stories about The Doctor (Voyager) and Old Man Wesley Crusher.These are upcoming scenes from Star Trek Hunter Series 2 and Series 3.Okay - here are some more related Wesley and Doctor stories - they also involve a few other extraordinary individuals...
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Star Trek Hunter Episode 19 - The Ivonovic Commission: Scene 4 - Syrtis Major

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to publish these three scenes from upcoming Star Trek Hunter episodes. When they come up, I will publish them again. 
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated as these three scenes are still pretty much in draft form and I tend to do a bit of word smithing before publishing drafts.
> 
> Really publishing these in a group just for fun for Wesley fans and Doctor fans.

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission  
Scene 4: Syrtis Major

  
19.4  
Syrtis Major

The Red Planet was slowly being transformed. If it could be done on Cun Ling, it could be done on Mars. Several bands of dynamos now ringed the planet, creating a magnetosphere strong enough to hold more atmosphere in place. This was warming the planet slowly. It also had a predictable effect on the wind, decreasing the wind speed but increasing the force. Which required recalibration of the windmills that provided the majority of the power needed for the dynamos.   
The atmosphere was nowhere near breathable - and not yet strong enough to provide sufficient protection from cosmic radiation. In spite of open, running water and the thin line of green plants growing in and around the water for the first time in hundreds of millions of years, anyone stepping outside of one of the domes for a stroll would be well advised to wear a full EVA suit.

But Master Warrant Officer Doctor Robert did not need an EVA suit. Or a breather. Although his image was well known throughout Star Fleet and in certain circles at the Daystrom Institute, there were lots of people on Mars and on the Moon who did not know him. He always enjoyed seeing their expressions - double takes, sometimes outright shock as he walked about outside the domes wearing only the blue uniform he had become accustomed to during his service on the U.S.S. Voyager. Of course there was always someone around who could explain to panicked onlookers that he was a hologram – the only known independent hologram in the Alpha Quadrant thanks to the portable emitter he had acquired during his service on the U.S.S. Voyager.  
The Doctor (as most people still referred to him) had agreed to remain in Star Fleet only when offered an immediate promotion to the highest rank for a warrant officer and given command of the holographic warrant officer program. His duties included classroom instruction for Ph.D. candidates, inspection of a sample of holograms during programming, and most importantly, overseeing the development of and advocating for changes to the principles and ethics code for the development and treatment of semi-sentient holograms. It was an astounding amount of work, even for a hologram, and he was very much due a vacation.

Doctor Robert’s name had been given to him by Admiral Jamaal El Fadil, simply because a name was required on a form (first name: Doctor; last name: Robert.) After all of the brilliant scientists he could have selected to name himself after, he had finally been named for a 20th Century pop song about an illegal drug dealer that almost no one had ever heard and that he had to pretend to like simply because it was a favorite of the Star Fleet Chief of Staff.

The Doctor had always wondered why he had been given such a strong startle reaction. It kicked in emphatically when he saw another man standing outdoors on the edge of one of the rivers running through Syrtis Major wearing no EVA suit - just a shabby gray robe. Long shaggy gray hair. The Doctor squinted, stared, cleared his throat: “Who are you?”   
His voice fell flat in the thin Martian atmosphere. He was still having a hard time believing he was looking at a man - perhaps this was some humanlike alien that was adapted to such an atmosphere. The Doctor raised his voice to carry further in the thin atmosphere. It still sounded frightened and tentative… “I said… Who are you?”  
The man turned to face him - an equally long shaggy gray beard. A crooked, gnarly staff for him to lean on.  
“One of my younger incarnations dubbed me Old Man Crusher last time I was in this galaxy. You’ve been given the name Robert, but you prefer Doctor. I suppose Old Man will do for me. I am rather old.   
“You’re human! You shouldn’t be out here!”  
“I shouldn’t? You mean…” the old man started coughing. “There’s not..” he clasped at this throat under the shaggy beard and started gasping… “not enough air.. to.. breathe…” He hung onto his staff, trying not to fall over.  
The Doctor rushed forward to help.  
The old man stood up straight, took a deep breath, then started laughing heartily. “There aren’t that many places to stand around if I couldn’t arrange for my physical needs on my own. Of course you hardly need worry about such things…” Old Man Crusher flipped up his staff, touching the emitter on the Doctor’s shoulder with the tin-shod lower end of his staff.

It was just the slightest touch, but the Doctor could feel a massive information flow between the emitter and the old man’s staff.   
“What… What did you just do to me?” the Doctor squeaked, his forehead furrowing so deeply that a farmer might be tempted to sow it with grain.  
“You’ve had some problems with other holograms attempting to steal your emitter,” replied Old Man Crusher. “I just tuned it to you to make it a bit more tamper resistant. It’s been at least 300 years from now that I’ve seen one of those… They’re a bit scarce and for good reason.”  
“So now no one can steal this from me?” The Doctor’s brow was still more furrowed than a carrot garden ready for planting. “There’s more. There’s a whole lot more! You added programming to this!”  
“No,” replied the old man. “No, I did not add any programming. But I did unlock quite a bit of it. You’re not ready for it, but we just don’t have time to wait around for you to evolve.”  
“Evolve?” The Doctor managed to look even more confused. “Evolve? I am not a species of fruit flies, Mr. Crusher!”  
“If that thing doesn’t get destroyed, or somehow you manage to avoid getting erased, how long do you think you have left to live, Doctor?”  
“I have no idea! I’ve really been trying hard not to think about it. I’m not looking forward to watching the grandchildren of all my friends dying of old age.”  
Old Man Crusher leaned heavily on his staff. “I am far, far older than I look, Doctor. This staff isn’t here because my legs are weak. This body is just fine. I just feel old. It happens when you’ve watched some of your friends’ entire species become extinct.”  
“But, you only left here about a dozen years ago…”  
“Come on Doctor. I know your primary database is dedicated to medicine. But you have enough knowledge of physics to know that time is relative. You will experience that directly soon enough. You will be able to do what I can do. All you have to do is know how to represent it mathematically.”  
“I am no mathematician, Mr. Crusher.”  
“You are now. It will just take a few weeks for you to assimilate it into a useful format. But you cannot do that in this solar system. There are far too many warp engines around here. I need to take you to a safer place so you can learn what you need…”  
“Wait! What??? Take me where??? Where are you taking me?”

The wind whipped up some reddish dust from the surface of Mars. The dust filtered back and fell into the greenish river and the green plants that lined one of the first rivers to flow openly through Syrtis Major in hundreds of millions of years. The shifting sands quickly erased the footprints of the two strange men who had just been standing at the edge of the river in Syrtis Major.

19.4


	2. Star Trek Hunter Episode 20 - Survival: Scene 5 - Dr. Prometheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Old Man Crusher looks in on the Doctor to evaluate his self-training...

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 5: Dr. Prometheus

20.5  
Dr. Prometheus

“You left me here!!! I’ve been here for nearly three years!!” The Doctor was outraged – and at the same time overwhelmed with joy to see Old Man Crusher again. They were standing on a dark, cold rock of a planet dimly lit by a distant star that remained forever in the middle of the sky, providing almost no warmth.

“And yet I’ve only been gone about 15 minutes,” the elderly looking Crusher responded, wiping his massive beard. “I just popped in to my favorite klingon outpost about 40,400 years ago for a raktajino. Best place to bump into myself for an update. Did you do what I told you to do?”  
“It took nearly a year for me to learn how to phase – it was torment!” The Doctor’s brow was furrowed like layers of paint on a Van Gogh masterpiece. He seemed little changed by the passage of three years - not his uniform nor his expressions. Just the beginning of a deep change in his eyes.  
Old Man Crusher smiled grimly. “Sorry Doc, but you’re in for a whole lot more of that. That is the lesson immortality has to teach you. The universe is boring. And considering what you are learning now – to move freely through spacetime – there is every possibility that you may live to be several times the age of this universe.”  
The Doctor rattled on and on, hardly paying attention to what Wesley Crusher was telling him: “No matter where I went, I kept ending up back here. I would jump somewhere – anywhere – and the next jump would always bring me right back here. I would try just staying somewhere – anywhere – then bang! Right back on this barren excuse for a rock! Now I know how Prometheus felt. I was tempted to teach some primitive race of simians how to use fire just so I could deserve being chained to this damn rock!!! I was wondering when the eagle was going to show up to peck out my liver just so I could have some company!”  
Crusher was laughing raucously, holding onto his staff.  
“This isn’t funny Mr. Crusher! This is a horrible thing to do to a sentient being! Why did you do this to me??”  
“Survival training, Doctor,” Crusher replied. “Tell me, do you really care about the future of humanity? Or are you willing to just let my species die out millions of years before our greatest potential is even possible?”  
“I know, I know...” the Doctor said, calming down. “You told me. Gamma Gun Galaxy. The Hulk. The Borg. I do want to help. But how does being chained to a rock for three years help me do that?”  
“Think of it as basic training, Doc,” said Crusher. “Tell me what the advantage of this place is.”  
“It’s the most boring hellhole in the universe,” the Doctor answered immediately.  
“Precisely. There is a grand total of one planet, one star and zero asteroids in this star system. And this star is in the middle of nowhere - it was ejected from its galaxy - that one,” Wesley pointed at a small cloud of stars that were the only other object in the sky - they were only visible certain times of the year - “more than a billion years ago. This is the most boring place I could possibly find. No life, no valuable minerals, very little warmth, almost no atmosphere, no water, nowhere near any shipping lanes. And, serendipitously, that entire galaxy is dead - nothing has ever lived there. Not even bacteria. This is home base.”  
“I don’t get it,” said the Doctor.  
“This is your escape hatch - our escape hatch, actually. You are now conditioned that if you have a stray thought or if you’re in danger, just click your heels three time together and say, ‘There’s no place like home,’ and bing! Here you are, right where no one will be looking for you. No one but me and our other team members.”  
“I don’t actually have to click my heels together, do I?” the Doctor asked, furrowing his brow.  
“No, but it would be really entertaining…” Crusher mused. “What was the longest time you could stay in one place and time?”  
“Three days, almost,” the Doctor replied. “But on average, about two hours.”  
Old Man Crusher stood up straight, raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed. You learn quickly. Took me nearly a decade to achieve that level of control.” He touched the Doctor’s emitter with the tip of his staff. “Either way, you should now be able to come to this place about this time at will. Emergency home base.”

“So, does this mean I’m… free?” the Doctor asked.  
“Not exactly,” Crusher replied. “You can go, but it will be quite some time before you can go wherever you want. Until then, you should regularly return here just to make sure you have it programmed in as an involuntary reflex. Believe me, you will need a safe place to retreat to and there is nowhere in all of space and time that is safer. Once you are able to stay in one place as long as you want to and have gained precision control over your timing - which may take you a few decades - meet me here five minutes from now.”  
“Is this the kind of tortured use of verb tenses I can look forward to from now on?” the Doctor asked. “You time travelers should be arrested just for the damage you’re doing to the English language. What makes you think I’m going to show up five minutes from now?”  
“You’re welcome to wait around and see,” Crusher answered. “Unless you’re already too bored to be bothered. I told you, the universe is a boring place. But when you come back, there’s something important that needs to be done and it will probably be somewhat interesting.”

“Interesting? Interesting??? We’re talking about bringing the borg back to the Alpha Quadrant! It’s going to be terrifying!!”

“Exactly!” enthused Old Man Crusher. He let his staff lean against his chest and rubbed his hands together and cackled briefly with glee. “See you in five minutes - well.. four minutes, thirty…”

And with a wink, he vanished.

20.5


	3. Star Trek Hunter Episode 21 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Scene 7 - Prometheosaurus Rex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> For more about how Wesley Crusher became Old Man Crusher, catch up with Star Trek Hunter, Series 2. I am currently posting Episode 15, which stars Wesley Crusher.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 7: Prometheosaurus Rex

21.7  
Prometheosaurus Rex

A creature from another era – from another planet – from another galaxy – inexplicably stalked its prey on this most boring of worlds. A nightmare monster – so much the king of beasts that the word king was in its very name. Twice.   
Enormous, three-clawed feet did not so much walk the ground as grip it against the fourth back-claw. The huge tail, although primarily used for balance, was a battering ram of destruction. But nothing conveyed terror more than its massive head – bright pitiless eyes made even more distinct by dark violet feathering that surrounded them. Massive jaws filled with teeth the size of a grown man’s arm. A sunburst of colored feathers around the beast’s mouth – yellow, orange, red, violet – made it appear even larger and more violent.   
Steaming drool dripped from its lips. Each snort sent out a spray of steaming mucous.

Despite its evident weight, it stalked its prey quietly, carefully. The man it was stalking stood looking ardently in the wrong direction, oblivious to the approach of this most terrible of beasts behind him.   
In triumph, the beast raised itself, filled its lungs with the cold, thin air, opened its cavernous mouth and uttered an ear shattering squack.

SQUACK!!!

It was essentially a gigantic chicken.

Wesley Crusher turned around, looked up at the fearsome beast and burst into uncontrollable laughter.   
The king of kings gazed disapprovingly down at the old, bearded man who was nearly doubled over with mirth, laughing until he could only manage to splutter to a stop.  
“That is gorgeous! Such attention to detail!” Crusher enthused, once he was finally able to regain control over himself. “It’s been a hundred years or more since I laughed so hard! Ah, Doctor, you do not disappoint.”  
The disappointed looking dinosaur shrank to man-size as it transformed smoothly into a disappointed looking holographic doctor. “What gave me away?”  
“Aside from you being right here, right now?” asked Old Man Crusher. “Your emitter. You don’t often see a Prometheosaur with a piece of technology like that on its shoulder.”  
“Tyrannosaurus Rex,” the Doctor corrected, somewhat petulantly.   
“Oh, the detail was astounding, I have to give you that,” Crusher said. “I’ve gone back to look for myself. Even the mighty mating call.”  
“That was a mating call???” the Doctor furrowed his brow like a county road desperately in need of maintenance.  
“That was the mating call.” Crusher confirmed.

There was an awkward silence. Then the Doctor noticed something was missing. He pointed.

“Where is your staff?”  
“On vacation,” Crusher answered.  
“What??” The Doctor turned his head and squinted, trying to work out what relationship, if any, Old Man Crusher’s answer had to his question. He cupped his hand as if holding a walking stick. Moved his hand up and down a few times. “No, your staff, where is it?”  
“On vacation,” Crusher responded again.  
“No, no, no, I mean…” The Doctor moved his hand up and down faster.  
“There’s no need to be indelicate, Doctor,” said Crusher. “I may be an old man, but the plumbing still works just fine.”  
“What??? What are you??” The Doctor shook his head in frustration. “No! The thing you lean on!!”  
“My staff?” asked Old Man Crusher.  
“Yes!!”  
“They’re on…”  
“Don’t tell me… They’re on vacation,” the Doctor said, then sighed heavily.  
“Well, you can’t expect them to hang around all the time without a break, can you?” Crusher observed. “Interesting lot they are. They started out as a rather chatty miniature deciduous forest. I’ve taken them all over the universe, but every once in a while they just want to hang out at a beach somewhere. I’ll introduce you properly when they get back. In the meantime, it’s time for us to go meet the Captain. For reasons having strictly to do with chain of command, he’s kind of stuck in his original timeline…”

21.7


	4. Episode 22.7 - Sacrifice: Sweet Madam Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Carrera meets the first incarnation of the Hoovlough Avatar. The Hoovlough is kind of a giant space fish. Its avatar is constructed out of the color blue, but has a relationship with various women in the Alpha Quadrant...
> 
>  _“We call this galaxy NGC 55. It is the home galaxy for hoovlough, although they have spread to several neighboring galaxies over the past 50 million years. You seem to think of these creatures as space whales – entirely coincidentally, NGC 55 is also known as the Whale Galaxy..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Carrera needs a ship for his special mission. He gets a fish.  
> I just decided to change the name of the spacewhales from the hoovlough to the laverdorns. Hoovlough was a play on Douglas Adams' hoovalou - a hyper-intelligent shade of the color blue. But laverdorn is easier to pronounce. And it's an easter egg...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 7: Sweet Madam Blue

22.7  
Sweet Madam Blue

Penelope was an extraordinarily kind hearted soul, which made her very, very good at her job. She could read each client and know exactly what they needed. Her clients were male, female and a few were rather indeterminate or were in transition. Most of them could only afford a weekend of her attentions – and that only a few times a year. Some took a 2- or 3- week vacation to spend in her care. Many of her clients were married and some of them came as couples for the therapy she provided.  
It was very useful that a few powerful U.S. and Ohio State Treasury officials as well as a talented accountant or two were among her clients as she was invariably audited every year. Another of her clients served on the medical review board that certified her business model every year. Penelope was a medical doctor and had doctorates in psychology, psychiatry and sex therapy. Her services were quite expensive and her client list rather exclusive. She did have a few particularly desperate clients who were unable to pay to whom she provided her services in return for keeping her rather magnificent home and gardens clean and in good order. She cared deeply for each of her clients, whether rich or impecunious. Giving meaning to their lives gave meaning to hers.  
Considering the rather puritanical nature of Middle America in the late 20th Century, Penelope might have had serious problems with the local religious establishments, or the police, or various arms of local, state and federal government, but discounts for well-placed clients and a little bit of extra attention provided to key clients kept all of these various forces at bay.

But Penelope was living a double life.

She was a lucid dreamer – she remembered her waking life in detail while dreaming and remembered every detail of her dreams while awake. These exceptionally lucid dreams had begun when she was a little girl. At first all she remembered was a vague blue haze. Gradually, she began to identify with the blue haze and after a year or so she was able to turn her dreaming awareness outward. She had thought at first she had been dreaming that she was swimming. But there was nothing to swim through. Nothing to push against.   
Her dreaming self had companions. And none of them were blue. Their skin was dark brown and they were enormous - each the size of a fair-sized house. Larger than the house that Penelope had grown up in. As she grew up, she had realized she could communicate with them and hear their communication with one another. Well – it didn’t exactly involve hearing... They didn’t think small, human thoughts. They thought gigantic, whale thoughts. She finally decided to call them whales. Space whales.  
Penelope quickly learned to keep these dreams to herself. They seemed innocent enough at first, but they were too different from the way that other people dreamed. She never felt like she was sleeping. It felt more like she was waking to anther life. Every nap, every moment she was asleep, her friends were there, swimming with her. Not swimming – flying through the stars. There was a baby. And they were depending on Penelope to help raise her. A baby whale.

It was an odd double life – the most complicated and involved life a human could live juxtaposed with an alternate life of pure freedom and complete innocence. Each life was the perfect counterpart to the other. Her job as nanny for the baby whale – to help shape its morality – came naturally to her – a simple, nurturing, life-giving ethos. The whales lived simple lives, grazing on asteroids to collect water, molten, inner planets to collect minerals and basking in the coronas of stars, to store up energy for their next interstellar journey.  
Penelope was not human during these times. She could be dispersed over more than a thousand square meters or condensed into a tight blue field. As a human, she had a fair idea what she was - flesh and blood. Her incarnation as an indistinct blue haze was a complete mystery to her.

She first became aware of the presence of a human interloper because the baby became unsettled. It was nearly 20 years old now, so baby was no longer really fair, but Penelope still felt very protective. Somehow, she felt it had been her purpose to raise this child emotionally and while it was no longer a baby, it was not yet an adult. It had never occurred to her to actually go inside her charge, but that was clearly what it was now wanting her to do.  
Moving her presence into the baby was very much like going anywhere else in space. She was astounded to find an environment inside the baby that was created for human habitation. What on the outside appeared to be a supple whale, flexing with each change of direction, on the inside looked like a mid-20th Century coochi-lounge – all dark reds and golds – a warm, seductive place. A large, dark orange, semi-circular couch more or less faced a curved, ovular viewscreen – or perhaps window – Penelope was not quite certain. Through this window, the stars and other members of the whale herd could be seen.  
She had a strong feeling that the small, evidently South American man wearing khakis, Wellingtons and a leather jacket belonged there – as much as she did – perhaps more. This feeling bothered her greatly. He was relaxing on the couch as if he had been there forever. Penelope found herself molding her appearance to resemble her human form, complete with the clothing she most often wore, but skin, clothing, shoes and all remained a consistent shade of light blue.

“Hello Lavardorn Avatar,” said her South American interloper, relieving her of her concern about needing to dig up Spanish that she had last used more than a decade ago. He sat up and looked at her as her form solidified. “Do you know just what you are?”  
Penelope had never spoken while in her non-corporeal hazy blue incarnation, but now, having assumed a human-like form, she found that she could speak. “No.” It was a timid squeak, not her usual, low, carefully cultivated sultry tones. She had grown used to being in control of every situation. She was used to people being naked to her – completely vulnerable and exposed. For the first time in more than a decade, she felt naked and exposed. She could craft her form to resemble a human wearing clothing, but the reality was there could be no clothing for this blue form. This odd sense of vulnerability was increased by an instinct that, although she had no clue what she actually was, it was clear her interlocutor did.  
“I am human,” Penelope managed, still learning how to control this voice – a voice she had never used because she had never even been aware that she had it.  
“And so am I. To all appearances. But I am somewhat more than human. You are much, much more than human. The creature we currently inhabit has many names. Most of them are far too long for convenient conversational use. Call her a lavardorn. It is close enough to the first three syllables of the name her race’s creators used for their creation. And you are her avatar. Do you know where we are?”  
“I have no idea,” Penelope replied.  
“We call this galaxy NGC 55. It is the home galaxy for lavardorn, although they have spread to several neighboring galaxies over the past 50 million years. You seem to think of these creatures as space whales – entirely coincidentally, NGC 55 is also known as the Whale Galaxy. This species is about 700 million years old. Recently – meaning in the past 150 million years – some of them have developed a method of travel so fast that we do not have any adequate means of measuring it. This creature is one of the fastest and she is just now coming into her own. Her pod has selected her to be the first to populate the Milky Way. Soon, you and she will leave this pod and make your way across the vast gulf of intergalactic space – about 6.5 million light years to our home galaxy – your home galaxy. This is why the pod chose to embed an avatar in a human – you are Minerva’s beacon – her true north.”  
“Minerva?” Penelope asked.  
“Well, we should name her, and Minerva is the goddess of wisdom. The protector of life. It would be a fitting name, don’t you think, Penelope?”

“You know my name, and you propose to name my, well, my child. Who are you?”

“Ah, my apologies, we first met a long time from now. It is so easy to be neglectful when an old friend is meeting you for the first time. I am Doctor Sarekson Carrera and I have a very difficult job ahead of me. I will need your help – yours and Minerva’s. Unfortunately, I will never get to meet your human incarnation – at least not your current one. You will carry the memories of each humanoid incarnation from one lifetime into the next. Your job will be to keep Minerva sane on her very long voyage to the Milky Way. That is the reason for your double life. Your human life will ground you so that you can, in turn, keep Minerva grounded. You are the first incarnation of Minerva’s avatar.”  
“So, I will be, um, reincarnated?”  
“In a way. The human Penelope will die like any human. But you will carry her memories as you are reborn into another inhabitant of the Milky Way. Reborn several times among several different species on several different worlds. I have noticed two things in common among Minerva’s avatars – you are invariably female and invariably extraordinarily kind, compassionate souls. Which makes me curious about your human self. I have known you to be a nurse, a psychiatrist, a lawyer – always someone who takes care of others and cares deeply for them. But I do not know what your first incarnation was… is… sorry – the English language was never designed to manage non-linear temporal phenomena. So what does the human Penelope do?”

“Actually, it is Mistress Penelope, Doctor Carrera. I am a professional dominatrix…”

22.7


	5. Episode 23.6 - JAG Wars: Minerva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Alien Bob (the Traveler) and Old Man Crusher (Wesley) and the Doctor (Doctor Prometheus) travel to meet the swiftly approaching hoovlough, there to await the arrival of the new hoovlough avatar...
> 
>  _“Is this the right time?” The Doctor asked again._  
>  _“That’s what I was told. I have it from an unimpeachable source,” Old Man Crusher rejoined._  
>  _“And just who told you that this is the right time?”_  
>  _“I did. I was sitting right where you are now.”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Wesley eventually started calling the Traveler "Bob" because the alien was too old to remember his name...  
> I have changed the name of the space whales from the hoovlough to the laverdorn.  
> I have changed the name of the space whales from the hoovlough to the lavardorn.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 6: Minerva

23.6  
Minerva

About a half-dozen klingons were wrestling boisterously in a ring that was designed to contain them so that the rest of the establishment did not get destroyed. Blood wine was flowing freely, good-natured insults were taken at face value and at any moment, another klingon might be thrown by his companions into the fighting ring, there to face and deliver random violence. Klingons could walk out of the ring, but they could not run out or be thrown out. One klingon was thrown against this invisible barrier. He slowed as the force field flexed, then cast him back into the fray as though he had been thrown into an elastic wall.  
At the bar, an old human with long, tangled, filthy white hair and beard that faded into his long, beige robes cackled with glee at the fighters and slowly worked down a ractagino. Next to him, a rather fierce looking, balding Klingon managed to look nervous. 

“Are you certain this is when we are supposed to meet him?” asked Dr. Klingon.  
“Would you calm down?” asked Old Man Crusher in some exasperation. “There is no one here who could possibly hurt you… Find some courage. Be klingon.”  
“Is this the right time?” The Doctor asked again.  
“That’s what I was told. I have it from an unimpeachable source,” Old Man Crusher rejoined.  
“And just who told you that this is the right time?”  
“I did. I was sitting right where you are now.”  
“I hate it when you say things like that!” groused the klingon Doctor.

At that moment, a hush fell over the room. The klingons in the pit stopped fighting. All eyes turned toward the door.   
An alien walked into the bar – an alien like nothing any of the regulars (except Wesley) had ever seen. Tall, unusually pale, he favored each person looking at him with a serene kindness – which was immediately insulting to the many klingon warriors in the room. His large hands each had three large fingers.  
Two klingons in full armor stepped in front of the strange alien, silently challenging him.

“It’s all right Kowr’ush, Usak,” said Wesley. “He’s with me.”  
Slow smiles crossed the faces of both klingons. One stepped aside and gestured toward the bar. The other slapped the alien on the back a bit vigorously, causing him to cough. “Any friend of the old man is welcome here! Well met…”  
The alien, realizing the klingon was waiting for his name, hesitated for a moment, then said, “….Bob….”  
Usak responded with a strange look, then said, “Well met, Bob!”  
The serene smile returned to alien Bob’s face. He waved tentatively at the two klingons, then joined Wes and the Doctor at the bar. The activity and noise levels returned to normal as he ordered a ractagino.

“I take it this is the artificial lifeform known as the Doctor?” alien Bob asked.  
“Bob, meet Doctor Prometheus,” said Old Man Crusher. Doc, this is Bob…”  
The large klingon transformed rather suddenly into the human form that the Doctor was more familiar with. “Doctor Prometheus???”  
“Come on Doc,” said Crusher. “You have to admit it is a whole lot better than ‘Doctor Robert.’ And it’s the name you gave to yourself.”  
Bob watched this exchange with his relaxed, serene smile. A few klingons in the saloon appeared somewhat put off at the sudden appearance of yet another human – but not enough so to raise the issue with Old Man Crusher.

“Wesley,” Bob said finally, “I have something we have both been longing to see. Doctor, I think you will like this too. It will stir your professional curiosity.”  
“Okay, but let’s take a walk first,” said Crusher. “The klingons get a little crabby about people just popping in and out of this joint.”  
“It’s a pretty rough neighborhood out there,” the Doctor objected.  
“Oh come on, Doc,” said Crusher. “It’s not as if any of these klingons could hurt you. Bob and I can take care of ourselves.”

About five minutes later and two dark and disreputable blocks away, the three were surrounded by hooded hoodlums who appeared to be more human than klingon.  
“Are we far enough from the saloon, Wesley?” Bob asked.  
“I suppose,” Crusher replied. “You’re driving.”

A moment later, alien Bob, Old Man Crusher and Dr. Prometheus, appeared in a darkly lit lounge – a single ovular room in which a semicircular sofa lined about ¾ of the wall. The remaining quarter of the wall was taken up by a large, ovular viewscreen displaying, at some distance, the Milky Way galaxy.

“It appears the Lavardorn Avatar is not here at the moment,” said Bob. “When she arrives, we will tour the outside, where it will become evident that we are not riding in a ship. This is a biological creature and she does not like the term “ship.” But she has accepted a name – Dr. Carrera named her ‘Minerva’.”  
“Wesley?” the Doctor asked, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen, “Does it look to you like our galaxy is… growing?”  
Old Man Crusher turned from his study of the couch and the walls and watched the viewscreen. “It is growing!” He turned toward alien Bob. “Bob, how fast is our friend here traveling?”  
“I don’t know,” said Bob. “Very, very fast. At this rate, I expect we will arrive in the Milky Way within eight of your weeks.”

23.6


	6. Episode 24.3 - A Trillian Problem: A Good Snooze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Doctor, the Traveler (alien Bob) and Wesley Crusher meet the new hoovlough avatar for the first time...
> 
>  _The blue entity had lived in and as part of six women since its inception nearly 400 years ago. Was born with them. Died with them. This girl was the seventh incarnation of the avatar – at once two separate entities and yet one harboring the memories of all, but there was far more._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> But this avatar is very different from the others...  
> As previously noted, I have changed the name of the space whale from the hoovlough to the lavardorn.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 3: A Good Snooze

24.3  
A Good Snooze

Wesley (Old Man Crusher) and alien Bob were crashed out on the couch. Alien Bob snored quietly. Old Man Crusher snored like a herd of elephants on a rampage. Doctor Prometheus was sitting primly on one end of the couch, arms folded, legs crossed, eyes closed, his chin on his chest. While the hologram did not actually breathe, his chest and chin rose and fell regularly as if he were breathing deeply. To all appearances, he too, was sound asleep.  
Gradually, a blue haze coalesced into the figure of a very slight woman, seated on the other end of the couch. The Doctor, somehow sensing her presence, looked up. 

The avatar’s abilities had evolved dramatically over nearly 400 years since she initially encountered Dr. Carrera. While her clothing, skin and hair were still blue, she was now able to use several different shades of blue to create a very lifelike appearance. Lines of spots (dark blue ones) formed a trail along her thin neck and tiny ankles. Her long hair was such a dark blue it almost appeared to be black. She and Doctor Prometheus looked at each other. They spared a shared glance at the slumbering elderly travelers. Seated at opposite ends of the couch, they were not on opposite sides of the room, but opposite sides of the viewer, through which a growing Milky Way Galaxy could be seen.  
The girl lifted her right hand and her arm gradually stretched – a meter, two meters, three, traversing half the distance between herself and the Doctor. The Doctor raised his left hand and extended his arm slowly – a meter, two meters, three… until his fingers touched hers.   
The Doctor did not understand how, but with this touch, understanding about this girl, who and where she was, as well as her identity with the formless blue avatar for this creature they were currently riding inside flooded into his mind. The blue entity had lived in and as part of six women since its inception nearly 400 years ago. Was born with them. Died with them. This girl was the seventh incarnation of the avatar – at once two separate entities and yet one harboring the memories of all, but there was far more. The girl herself was a composite of a young girl and another timeless entity. And yet another ancient mind was in the process joining with her – four distinct entities becoming one. By far the youngest of these – just a teenage girl – was terrified – afraid of losing herself in the nexus of these ancient and powerful personalities.

“Don’t lose yourself in all this,” the Doctor found himself saying very softly. “Don’t forget to be a child.”  
Somehow, his words seemed to comfort the strange creature. And he was not the only one providing emotional support. The lavardorn itself – the space whale in which they were traveling – was also in contact with its avatar – something stronger than telepathy – supporting the girl as she was buffeted by powerful, ancient, competing personalities.

This struggle was suddenly interrupted… Old Man Crusher stood up and stretched loudly. Alien Bob was also making some noises as he sat up, then rocked himself into a standing position.  
“Oh great simpering space monkeys!” said Crusher. “That was the most delicious sleep I have had in...” He shook his head, then doodled with his finger as if doing math on a chalkboard. “Borrow the one… carry the four… hundreds of years! I haven’t woken up feeling so refreshed since my hair was brown! It makes me want to go back to sleep just so I can wake up all over again and feel this limber!” He bent over and managed to touch the fingers of his right hand to his left toes with an unfit grunt and some vague popping. He straightened back up slowly. “Oh… My back popped… I think it was a good pop…” He burrowed his fists into his back and stretched again. “I hope that was a good pop…”  
Alien Bob was laughing quietly. “Oh I have to agree with you. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed waking from a good sleep so much. It almost makes me feel young again.” He indulged in a slow and rather loud yawn and only mid-yawn noticed the presence of the blue avatar. “Well, hi th…” He tried to greet her only to be interrupted as a far more powerful yawn pushed its way through him.  
The avatar was giggling at her two new but elderly companions.  
Wesley yawned cavernously. “Enough with the yawning, Bob, it’s catching…” He attempted a very tenuous version of a runner’s stretch, followed by a number of “Ow” noises, then bent over and massaged his own hamstrings.  
“Me?” yawned alien Bob. “You’re the one who started it with all this talk of delicious sleep…” Bob stretched again as another yawn overtook him.  
Suddenly they both sat down.   
“And that’s enough exercise for the day,” Wesley said.  
Alien Bob took a deep breath. Nodded his head. “Yep.” Exhaled.

“Great,” muttered the Doctor. “I’m off to save the galaxy with an intergalactic space fish, a primary color with multiple personality disorder and a geriatric comedy duo…”

24.3


End file.
